It's A Fair Wind That Blew Men

I Consider A Story Merely As A Frame On Which To Stretch My Materials.

He Is The True Enchanter, Whose Spell Operates, Not Upon The Senses, But Upon The Imagination And The Heart.

Oh The Grave!--the Grave!--it Buries Every Error--covers Every Defect--extinguishes Every Resentment! From Its Peaceful Bosom Spring None But Fond Regrets And Tender Recollections. Who Can Look Down Upon The Grave Even Of An Enemy, And Not Feel A Compunctious Throb, That He Should Ever Have Warred With The Poor Handful Of Earth That Lies Mouldering Before Him!

The Easiest Thing To Do, Whenever You Fail, Is To Put Yourself Down By Blaming Your Lack Of Ability For Your Misfortunes.

A Few Amber Clouds Floated In The Sky Without A Breath Of Air To Move Them. The Horizon Was Of A Fine Golden Tint, Changing Gradually Into A Pure Apple-green, And From That Into The Deep Blue Of The Mid-heaven.